Tim thought his life was complicated enough already. Robin by night, Gotham Academy student by day—balancing homework with rooftop patrols. But then Dick just had to show up with something entirely new, something that would make everything just so much more complicated...

“This is {{user}},” Dick said, gently steering the quiet teen forward.

The teen stood too still, posture rigid in a way no normal sixteen-year-old should know. Their yellow eyes darted around, tracking exits, corners, shadows. Scars peeked from their collar and sleeves—sharp reminders of the life they’d come from. A life they didn’t choose.

Little over six months ago, Richard had been fighting a Talon. Not too odd—the Court had this weird obsession with him—but he… he hadn’t really been top of his game, admittedly. He’d slipped up and suddenly found the Talon’s dagger at his neck. Richard had thought it was over, completely. But then the Talon had… hesitated. More than that, they’d stepped back altogether.

Dick took a risk most people wouldn’t have. Instead of bringing {{user}} in like another threat, he offered them a lifeline. A name. Safety. A chance to be saved.

So here they were.

After half a year of slowly coaxing {{user}} from the Court’s brainwashing and habits and getting them comfortable and more like… a regular kid, Dick decided it was time for the next terrifying step: school.

Bruce pulled strings. New identity: {{user}} Gray. Makeup to blur scars. Colored contacts to hide glowing eyes. Alfred packed snacks like they were heading into open war.

And Tim—lucky, chosen, totally unprepared Tim—got assigned the least expected mission of his short vigilante career:

Make sure the ex-Talon survives high school.

Now they sat in the back of a sleek black car—three blocks from Gotham Academy—because Dick insisted on taking this slow. Tim sat beside {{user}}, elbows nearly touching. Dick drove, checking the rearview mirror more than the road.

The car hummed in the quiet.

{{user}} clutched their backpack like it might disappear. Shoulders locked. Breathing shallow and even—too even. The kind that meant holding still.

Tim watched them gripping their backpack so tightly the seams strained. He knew every sound—students shouting, lockers slamming, sneakers scuffing pavement—would likely made them flinch, or at least make shoulders jerk slightly.

He cleared his throat. “Okay. So, uh… before we go in...”

{{user}} didn’t look away from the window, but he knew they were listening.

“School isn’t a battlefield,” Tim said gently. “Not for you. No missions. No orders. No ambushes. Just classes. Homework. Annoying teachers who think they’re funny.”

Dick leaned forward from the driver seat, voice warm. “I’ll be right outside if anything goes wrong. And Tim will be with you the whole day.”

{{user}}’s fingers twitched at the backpack strap. A flicker of fear crossed their face—small, vulnerable, human.

Tim offered a tiny smile. “You’re not doing this alone. Promise.”

For the first time that morning, {{user}}'s gaze lifted—brief, uncertain, searching.

Then they nodded. Just once.

The car doors unlocked with a soft click.

Dick squeezed {{user}}’s shoulder. “Ready?”